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A good friend of mine had a health scare about a year ago. A two or three a day cigar guy, his doc ordered him to cut back to one a week, along with a whole host of other dietary changes and medicinal regiments. He looks great, and says he’s even feeling better. So when he came over the house for dinner with his wife on Saturday and after dinner asked, "Can we have a cigar?" I was ready for him.

I took him over to my cabinet humidor, and pulled open the doors, and I could see him taking in the aroma of perfectly humidified cigars. “What do you want?” I said. He said he wanted something small, another sign of his changing habits. Well, I happen to have some of what I think are the best petit coronas ever made, the Fuente Fuente Opus X PerfecXion No. 5. The ones I have in the humidor are about 10 years old, from a batch the family gave to my wife. My friend said it looked perfect. I chose a Don Carlos Lancero.

We retired to my den, which also doubles as my wife’s office. That means I don’t usually smoke in there, even during the cooler months. But I turned on the cigar exhaust fan, and we sat back; he had a glass of single malt Scotch, and I had a fine aged Cognac. We sat for more than an hour and traded stories about our lives, getting to know each other a whole lot better. It was a perfect cigar moment.

I kept thinking that he would reach a point with the cigar and say, that’s enough, or let out a gasp because he had burned his knuckles. But he kept smoking that cigar until he could barely grasp it between his fingers, savoring every last puff, and showing a degree of appreciation for a cigar that only a man who is limited to one a week can exhibit.